by Adele Whitby
“Yes, Mother,” I said. The truth was I wasn’t a bit bothered by Cecily’s outburst. To think that there could be a long-lost secret—perhaps even a scandal!—embedded in the Elizabeth necklace alongside its sapphires gave me a tremendous thrill. I desperately wanted to go straight to my room and write to Cousin Kate about it!
“Harrison, my good man,” Father suddenly said. “Bring that box to me now, would you?” I wondered what box Father was referring to, but I didn’t have to wonder for long. Moments later, Mr. Harrison returned with the box Father had requested. He handled it with great care.
“Excellent, Harrison, thank you!” Father exclaimed. “Look at it. Just look at it!”
I glanced inside the box at the strangest contraption I had ever seen. It had odd switches and knobs, and the middle section was folded like an accordion.
“Oh, Edwin.” Mother sighed, shaking her head.
“It’s the very latest—an Eastman Kodak!” he said proudly. Then, upon seeing my confusion, he continued, “A camera, dear girl, for photography! I thought we should commemorate your birthday in the modern style!”
“A photograph?” Mother said in dismay. “Beth will sit for a portrait, just as all the other Elizabeths have upon receiving the necklace.”
My grandmother, who looked as shocked as my mother, nodded in agreement.
“I see no reason why she can’t do both,” Father told them. “Come, let me take a photograph today—of the three Elizabeths: my wife, her mother, and my daughter, the birthday girl. Then I’ll take the film to London for development.”
“Quite an inconvenience, really,” Mother replied. “Quite a headache. Taking film to London, waiting for it to be processed, receiving the prints by post . . .”
But Father was not to be discouraged. “You’re quite right, my dear,” he said smoothly. “You know, it might be wise to purchase one of those development machines. Or we could even build a darkroom here at Chatswood. Yes. I say, Harrison? Do any of the footmen fancy a turn as a developer? Someone we could trust to be mindful of the chemicals and such?”
“I would be happy to make inquiries, sir,” Mr. Harrison replied.
“Today is not the time for this discussion,” Mother said firmly. “It is Beth’s birthday, and we have a great deal to do today and tomorrow. Now, Edwin, we will pose for one photograph, and then it will be time for us to get ready for the birthday picnic.”
I stood beneath the portrait of Elizabeth and Katherine, flanked on either side by my mother and grandmother, while Father fiddled with the switches and lenses. As soon as the flash went pop!, Mother glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Beth, run and change for the picnic,” she told me.
“Yes, Mother,” I replied, hurrying out of the room. What a fantastic morning this had been so far! I’d received the Elizabeth necklace, witnessed Cecily’s proclamation about a family scandal, and posed for a modern photograph! I could hardly wait for the festivities to continue!
As I reached the corridor outside my room, I noticed Shannon and Helena having a conversation near my door. I slowed down a bit to see if I could hear what they were talking about.
“Is there something you need?” Shannon asked Helena.
“I am fine, thank you,” Helena replied.
Shannon tried again. “What I’m trying to say is that anything required for Lady Gabrielle will be found directly outside her room,” she said. “So if I can help in any way—”
“You can help by minding your business!” Helena snapped rudely.
“Lady Beth’s laundry chute is my business!” said Shannon. “You will find Lady Gabrielle’s laundry chute at the other end of the corridor. And so I’ll kindly ask you again to tell me what you just put down Lady Beth’s laundry chute so that I may retrieve it for you.”
Helena suddenly went very pale. “What is this . . . laund-a-ree choot?” she asked, stumbling over the unusual words.
Shannon’s brow furrowed. “Why, Helena, it’s—”
At that moment, Helena spotted me. Her expression was a mix of anger and fear. She spun around and marched away from Shannon—but not before repeating, “Mind your business, housemaid!”
“What was that about?” I asked Shannon as I approached.
“Lady Beth,” Shannon said. “Very sorry you had to witness that on your birthday.”
“Helena seemed so angry,” I continued as Shannon followed me into my bedroom.
Shannon shrugged. “She is an odd one, Lady Beth,” she said in a confidential tone. “But to be honest, I think she struggles more with the language than she cares to admit. I was simply trying to explain where Helena would find Lady Gabrielle’s laundry chute, though I don’t think she understood me at all.”
“I see,” I said, turning my attention to the wardrobe. An argument over the laundry was much less interesting than the row of blue gowns before me.
“Shannon, which dress do you think is best?” I asked. I was very glad that I could ask her advice. Not even Shannon’s stiff uniform could hide how stylish she was—from her smart buckled boots to the fine lace at her collar. It was prettier than all the housemaids’ collars; Shannon must have sewn it herself.
Shannon tapped her chin as she studied each gown. “Truly, they’re all lovely,” she said at last. “But if it were my choice, I’d wear the one with the pale blue stripes. I think it’s just the thing for a picnic.”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right,” I replied.
“Let me unfasten your necklace before you change,” Shannon continued. “I’d hate for the sapphires to catch your silk gown.”
With my hand to my throat, I felt the weight of the Elizabeth necklace as it dropped into my palm. It was still so hard to believe that it belonged to me! I realized that Shannon wouldn’t have had the opportunity before now to see the necklace up close, so I held it out to her.
“Oh, may I?” she asked eagerly.
“Of course!”
Shannon held the necklace as if it were the most precious thing in all the world. “It’s a marvel,” she whispered. “The shine of the gold and the sparkle of the sapphires—oh, Lady Beth, what a treasure.”
“You could try it on, if you want,” I offered.
But Shannon shook her head vehemently. “No, never!” she replied. “The Elizabeth necklace belongs to you and only you, Lady Beth. It shouldn’t grace another neck until you give it to your own daughter.”
I smiled at Shannon in the mirror. A daughter of my own—the next Elizabeth—seemed like such a faraway thing that I could hardly imagine it.
“It’s so special to have an heirloom like this,” Shannon said as she held the gown open for me.
“Yes, I know,” I replied. “When I walked with Gabrielle in the gardens, she was so disdainful of her own heirloom locket. And all because it was engraved instead of set with gems.”
Shannon shook her head. “A pity,” she said. “I can only hope that Lady Gabrielle will come to appreciate her heirloom as she grows.”
Then a self-conscious smile flickered across Shannon’s face. “I have one,” she said. “Would you care to see it?”
“Of course I would!” I cried.
Shannon reached into the high neck of her dress and pulled out a simple metal chain. A bronze medallion dangled from it.
“It’s a Saint Anthony medal,” Shannon explained. “He’s the patron saint of lost things and missing people, you know. It belonged to my gram. When she was a girl, she had an awful knack for losing things. And when it was time for her to go into service, Gram was scared half to death that she’d lose something belonging to the lady of the house. Her mum gave her this medal so that Gram could call on Saint Anthony if she did.
“When I went into service, Gram gave it to me,” Shannon continued. “I know it’s not much to look at, and worth even less than you’d think, but it’s the most special thing I own.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” I said firmly—and I meant it.
Shannon bowed her h
ead, but I could see how pleased she was. “That’s very kind of you, milady,” she said as she finished fastening the buttons on my gown. “Now, shall we return the Elizabeth necklace to its rightful place?”
I watched in the mirror as Shannon fastened the clasp around my neck.
“You look as pretty as a summer morn,” Shannon declared as she inspected my ensemble to make sure no detail had been overlooked.
“Thank you, Shannon. I would be lost without you!” I told her.
We joined Mother and Grandmother and their maids in the foyer. Then we all proceeded to the garden for my picnic. A crisp white tent had been erected near the roses; beneath it, a small table was elegantly laid with blue-edged china and Great-Grandmother Elizabeth’s silver tea service. Bertram and Arnold stood to the side, ready to serve us from a large hamper that Mrs. Beaudin had filled to the brim.
“A beautiful day for a beautiful girl!” Grandmother exclaimed as we took our seats. “My, I can’t remember when the weather smiled on us so prettily.”
“That’s as it should be,” Mother replied, fixing me with a warm smile. “I want everything just so for Beth’s twelfth birthday. Even the weather must cooperate!”
We all laughed at her little joke.
“Tell me a story,” I said as Bertram placed two delicate sandwiches on my plate. “One about Elizabeth and Katherine.”
“But my dear, we’ve already told you so many,” Grandmother replied. “I daresay you know them all by heart.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Even so, I love to hear them. And there’s still so much I don’t know! For example—what were Great-Grandmother Elizabeth’s hobbies?”
“That I remember well,” Grandmother said. “My mother loved poetry and writing. She could turn a pretty phrase, you know. Not that she’d ever boast of such a thing.”
“Indeed, Grandmother Elizabeth was quite private about it,” Mother recalled. “I remember going into her room when I was a small girl—she’d let me visit her while she dressed for dinner—and finding a locked drawer with a key jutting from it. I’m afraid my curiosity got the better of me, and I unlocked it. There was just one item inside: a thin leather book, secreted away so that no one but her could read it.”
“What was in it?” I asked eagerly. No one had ever told me that my great-grandmother loved writing as much as I did.
“Before I could read a word, Elizabeth was at my side. She gently took the key from my hand and locked the drawer. I never saw the book—or the key—again.”
“But where are they now?”
Mother and Grandmother exchanged a glance. “You know, Beth, I can’t say,” Grandmother replied. “Liz, were her poems and papers shelved in the library after she passed?”
“I don’t think so,” Mother said, shaking her head. “I’m sure they’re somewhere, though. I do remember this, Beth—she loved chocolate. Just like you! Arnold, please bring us the Florentine biscuits. As it’s a special occasion, I see no reason why Beth should wait for them.”
“Begging your pardon, milady,” Arnold said, “but Mrs. Beaudin asked me to convey her deepest apologies that there are no Florentine biscuits today.”
“And why not?” asked Mother sharply. “They were on the menu.”
“There was . . . an unfortunate incident in the kitchen,” Arnold replied. “If Lady Beth would like, there are three kinds of cake and strawberry ice instead.”
“Strawberry ice!” I cried. “Yes, please!”
Mother smiled indulgently as she pushed aside my plate of sandwiches. “The perfect start to a picnic,” she declared. “I’ll have some too.”
I had such a lovely time with my mother and grandmother that I hardly noticed that my favorite biscuits were missing. As we began the walk back to Chatswood Manor, I was so content that I thought, I hope nothing will ever change the way things are right now.
But we had scarcely returned when a terrifying scream pierced my ears!
A chill crawled over my body, despite the warmth of the day. “Oh, Mother, what was that?” I exclaimed, reaching for her arm.
“It came from inside the house,” she said, her lips set in a tight, thin line. “Hurry, Beth.”
The scream came again.
We ran up the steps and burst into the great hall, only to find Cousin Gabrielle atop the stairs, her mouth open as if she were about to scream. At that moment, Aunt Beatrice rushed up to her, followed by Father and Uncle Claude, who must’ve just returned from their tour of the grounds.
“Gabby, what is it? What’s happened?” Aunt Beatrice cried. “Are you ill? Tell me, pet. Tell me!”
“Gone!” Gabrielle screamed. “It’s gone. It’s gone!”
“What’s gone?”
“My Trufant locket!” Gabrielle shrieked. She appeared to wobble on her feet, and my heart clenched; if she fainted at the top of the stairs and fell, her injuries would be dreadful. I was not the only one who thought that, as Uncle Claude and my father immediately rushed to her side and helped carry Gabrielle down the stairs.
Aunt Beatrice began fanning Gabby with her lace fan. “Liz, we need smelling salts,” she called over her shoulder.
“Of course,” Mother said, nodding at Miss Dalton.
By this time, a large crowd had gathered in the hall: all the Trufants and all the Etheridges, and a great many servants as well. Gabrielle’s eyelids fluttered dramatically, and I thought it looked like she was peeking at the crowd to see how much attention she had attracted. But I was probably mistaken.
After Miss Dalton returned with the smelling salts, Aunt Beatrice waved the vial delicately in front of Gabrielle’s face. Gabrielle opened her eyes wide—and burst into tears.
“Oh, Maman, Maman, my Trufant locket has been stolen!” Gabrielle wailed. “My most precious Trufant locket, stolen!”
Uncle Claude’s shoulders stiffened. “I demand that the house be searched at once,” he announced, “starting with the staff quarters.”
“Surely Gabrielle’s locket has just been misplaced,” Father began.
“Stolen!” Gabrielle interjected. “Stolen from my room!”
“Do you refuse me?” Uncle Claude snapped. “Really, Edwin, that such a thing should happen in your house—”
Father raised his hands to calm Uncle Claude. “Now, now,” he said. “Of course we will search the house. I have full faith in our staff, Claude. They are good people, hardworking and honest. Chatswood Manor does not employ thieves! I am confident that the locket will turn up in due time, and I’m sure we’ll all have a good laugh about it. Harrison!”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Harrison said as he stepped forward.
“Organize a search party, would you? Make sure that no stone goes unturned, as they say,” Father told him.
Mr. Harrison nodded briskly. “Mrs. Morris and I will search the staff quarters ourselves,” he said.
“Oh, it’s gone!” Gabrielle cried again. Her shoulders shook with sobs. But as she covered her face with her hands, it seemed to me that she was not really weeping, but merely pretending to. “What shall I do without it?”
Aunt Beatrice threw her arms around Gabrielle. “There, there,” she crooned. “You mustn’t cry so. If your locket doesn’t turn up, Papa will buy you a new one, won’t you, Claude?”
“Yes, of course,” Uncle Claude answered.
Gabrielle’s sobs quieted at once. “One made of gold? Real gold?” she asked. “And set with precious gems of my choosing?”
“Anything you desire, ma princesse,” Uncle Claude declared.
An uneasy feeling settled over me. I couldn’t forget the disdain that Gabrielle had expressed for the Trufant locket on our walk yesterday. How convenient that it should suddenly disappear, inspiring her parents to promise her a brand-new—and much fancier—replacement. I knew that this opinion was terribly uncharitable. You should give your cousin the benefit of the doubt, I told myself. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that Gabrielle was somehow being dishonest.
At that momen
t, Gabrielle’s eyes met mine. She might have guessed my thoughts, because she immediately flung herself into her mother’s arms, crying out, “Gone! Gone forever! Oh!”
I decided then that I had little patience left for my cousin—especially since I knew her true feelings for the Trufant locket. “Come, Shannon,” I said. “I must select my gown for dinner, and I’d like your help.”
“Of course, Lady Beth,” she replied.
But as soon as we were in my room, I said, “Gracious! Have you ever seen such a display!”
“I can’t say that I have,” Shannon said. “But I do feel sorry for her. I hope that her locket is found soon.”
“But Shannon, she doesn’t care for it at all,” I said. “She said as much yesterday. And did you hear her? She’s already scheming to get a fancier one!”
“It did seem that way,” Shannon said uneasily. “But perhaps losing it has made Lady Gabrielle realize how much it truly means to her. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Perhaps,” I said doubtfully.
Just then, there was a knock at my door. It was Mr. Harrison and Mrs. Morris. I had never seen them look so grave.
“Very sorry to disturb you, Lady Beth,” Mr. Harrison said. “We’d like to have a word with Shannon. Is she here?”
“Of course,” I said, opening the door wider so that they might enter.
But instead, Mrs. Morris said, “In your quarters, Shannon. At once.”
Shannon glanced at me in confusion as she followed Mr. Harrison and Mrs. Morris. I followed too; after all, how could I stay behind?
“Pardon me,” I said. “Is there a problem?”
Mr. Harrison cleared his throat. “Lady Beth, there is nothing for you to worry about,” he said vaguely.
“I’d like to know what’s going on,” I said.
Mrs. Morris and Mr. Harrison exchanged a troubled look.
“If there is nothing for me to worry about, then it must be a trivial matter,” I said. “In which case, I require Shannon’s assistance now.”
“Please, Lady Beth,” Mrs. Morris spoke up. “It is not something we wish to bother you with.”